


Never Say Goodbye

by verysorrytobother



Series: Talk to Me AU [8]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Dungeons Dungeons and More Dungeons (mentioned), Fluff and Angst, Ford Pines Has Issues, Ford Pines Needs a Hug, I don't know why the tags are so difficult for this one, Stan Pines Angst, Stan Pines Has Issues, Stan Pines Has Low Self-Esteem, Stan Pines Needs A Hug, Stangst, Talk to Me AU, They're both trying, mention of sex (non-explicit)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-13 22:48:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28785960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verysorrytobother/pseuds/verysorrytobother
Summary: Fiddleford has a plane to catch, and the Pines twins have a conversation.
Relationships: Fiddleford H. McGucket & Ford Pines, Fiddleford H. McGucket & Ford Pines & Stan Pines, Fiddleford H. McGucket & Stan Pines, Ford Pines & Stan Pines
Series: Talk to Me AU [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2056503
Comments: 48
Kudos: 96





	Never Say Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> The first part of this actually takes place a tiny bit BEFORE the previous installment, "Making Memories." Other than that, the timeline is pretty straight-forward.

“There’s something I need to say.” 

Fiddleford, who had been struggling to close the latch of his busting-at-the-seams luggage, stopped what he was doing and looked up at Stanford. “Yeah? What’s that?” 

Ford awkwardly fidgeted with his hands. “I...well...it’s an, erm...it’s just…” He paused, and Fiddleford could practically see the gears turning as he tried to formulate the words. “You...you’ll be missed. By me, to clarify.”

Fiddleford chuckled. “Well, I should hope so,” he said, resuming his task. “Yer my best friend! Now, was that all you were gonna tell me, or—” 

“Whoah whoah whoah, wait just a second!” Ford interrupted, wearing a dumbfounded expression. “Did you just say... _I’m_ your best friend?” 

Fiddleford stared at him. “Um...yeah?”

“What...but I…” Ford trailed off, grabbing at his hair. “Why...why didn’t you say something sooner?!” 

Fiddleford rolled his eyes. “Ford, it’s not somethin’ ya need ta _talk_ about! We’ve been livin’ together for _four years,_ fer cryin’ out loud!” 

“Yes, but—” 

“How could you _not know_ —” 

“—established that I’m socially inept—” 

“—of _course_ yer my best friend—”

“—didn’t want to assume—”

“—pulled a raccoon off my face—”

Both men abruptly stopped their nonsensical jabbering.

They stared at each other for a moment. 

And then immediately burst out laughing. 

“I suppose it’s fairly obvious, in hindsight,” Ford admitted, wiping his eyes. “And for what it’s worth, I’m honored, and hold you in the same regard.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Fiddleford said, waving him off. “I’ll miss you, too.” He finally managed to pop the latch of the suitcase shut, despite the floral-patterned shirts spilling out the sides.

“I also wanted to say...thank you.” 

Fiddleford turned to him with a raised eyebrow.

“For being kind to me,” Ford hurriedly continued. “Although, it seems a bit redundant to say it _now,_ after the conversation we’ve just had…” He shook his head. “But still. I really can’t express how much your companionship has meant to me.” Ford looked down at his hands, face tightening into an unreadable expression. He seemed to lose himself in his thoughts for a few minutes; Fiddleford waited patiently. 

Ford finally snapped back to attention. “Ah, sorry. I...I also wanted to thank you for...for inviting Stanley to live with us.” 

“Aw, that was no problem,” Fiddleford said. “Couldn’t turn away a man in need.” 

“Yes, but that’s not...that’s not what I meant,” Ford said, beginning to pace. “Stan and I...well, it will probably never be the way it was when we were kids, but...we’re getting there. We’re getting _better._ And...that’s all thanks to you, Fidds. Without your intervention, I’m not quite sure where we’d be—” 

Fiddleford snorted. “A mess, most likely.” 

“—and even though we’ll all be parting ways soon, even if it was only for a short while, you gave me my brother back. So, thank you.” 

Fiddleford’s eyes watered, and unlike the Pines twins, he felt no need to blame it on sleep deprivation or dust. 

“Aw, c’mere!” he said, wrapping Stanford in a hug. Ford stiffened before relaxing slightly, awkwardly patting him on the back. 

Suddenly, Fiddleford frowned and pulled away. “Wait, hold up. Since when are we _all_ partin’ ways? Aren’t you and Stan stickin’ together?” 

Ford’s face fell. 

Fiddleford groaned and face-palmed. “Aw, no. No, no, no!” he said. “I turn around fer _two seconds_ —”

“We didn’t fight,” Ford said quickly. “It’s just...I’m heading to Oregon for my research, and I couldn’t possibly ask Stan to come with me.” He added, so quietly Fiddleford almost didn’t hear, “As much as I want to.” 

Fiddleford sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Alright, what...what makes ya think he wouldn’t _want_ ta go with you?” 

“Because he’s been applying for multiple jobs over the past month, and the diner only just hired him! Because he’s finally beginning to settle down, something he apparently hasn’t done in four years, and I don’t want to take that away! Because when I told him about my plans to move to Gravity Falls, he expressed no interest in joining me!” 

Fiddleford stared at him for a long moment. 

“Ford,” he said slowly, “I think that might be yer communication issues more than anythin’ else.” 

Ford opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. 

“You’ve gotta talk to him. Alright? I know you don’t like it, but when I leave, you need ta sit down and have a long conversation with yer brother.” 

“But—” 

“Promise me.” 

Ford held his gaze, and finally sighed. 

“Alright. I...I promise.” 

Fiddleford grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. “Great! Now, whaddaya say we bust out the DD&MD? I betcha I can guilt Stan into playin’, it bein’ my last night and all.” 

Ford smiled. “I think that’s a splendid idea.” 

* * *

“Hey, Fidds?” Stan said, twiddling his thumbs. “I, uh, I gotta tell you something.” 

“Shoot,” Fiddleford said, not opening his eyes. His flight didn’t leave for another half hour or so, and he was taking advantage of the nearly-empty airport by stretching out across three chairs. Boy, did that moonshine pack a punch. 

“I guess, uh…” Stan trailed off, glancing across the terminal at Ford, who was buying them breakfast sandwiches. “I just wanted to say...thanks. For, for takin’ me in, ya know.” 

“Of course!” Fiddleford said, cracking an eye open despite his raging headache. “You don’t gotta thank me. Honestly, these past few months have been the best I’ve had in awhile. More excitin’, anyhow.” 

Stan chuckled and scratched the back of his head. “Hehe, yeah. Listen, I’ve, uh, I’ve never had a lot of friends before...but...but you’ve been a good one. Ya helped me out of a tough place.” He crossed his arms. “And that’s as sappy as I’m gettin’, so you can take it or leave it.” 

Fiddleford grinned and laced his hands behind his head as he settled back. “Guess I’ll take it, then—”

“And thanks for bein’ such a good friend to Ford.” 

Stan was blushing, fiddling with his scarf (which he insisted on wearing despite it being sixty-six degrees outside) and staring down at his feet as he continued. “I mean, I know I give you a hard time, but...the nerd needs it, ya know? Friends. So, yeah. Alright, _now_ I’m done.” 

They sat in silence for a few minutes. 

Fiddleford slowly sat up.   
“Stan, Ford’s real lucky to have a brother like you.” 

Stan let out a self-deprecating chuckle. “Uh huh, sure.” 

“No, I mean it. Heck, yer the only person ‘sides me that can get that fool to take care of himself once in a while.” Fiddleford suddenly turned to him with a serious expression. “So it’s a good thing yer stickin’ around after I leave. Right?”

Stan rubbed the back of his neck guiltily. 

“ _Stanley?_ ” 

“He doesn’t need me!” Stan blurted. “I just hold him back, I always have. And he’s movin’ to Oregon! It’s not like I can go, ‘Hey, I know you’re startin’ a new chapter of your life, but can I tag along so I don’t have to go back to my crippling loneliness?’ I’m not _that_ pathetic.” 

Fiddleford bit his lip. He needed _them_ to talk it out—he wasn’t going to be there to mediate anymore. “What if he _wants_ you ta come with him?” he said carefully. “Have ya even asked?” 

Stan snorted. “Why ask a question you already know the answer to?” And then, so quiet that Fiddleford was sure he wasn’t meant to hear it, “I’m done bein’ a burden.” 

Fiddleford was silent for a moment, thinking. 

Finally, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a Stancoupon, then held it out to Stan. 

Stan looked confused as he took it...then even more confused a moment later. He squinted, brow furrowed. “You wanna arm wrestle _now?_ ” 

“Wait, what?! Oh, goshdarnit, wrong one—” Fiddleford snatched the coupon back and reached into his other pocket. “Here we go.” 

Stan read what was written on the new Stancoupon and bit his lip. 

_One promise._

“Talk to Ford,” Fiddleford said. “ _Really_ talk to him. ‘Bout yer feelin’s and worries and all that other ‘girly’ stuff you pretend ya don’t have.” 

Stan stared down at the paper slip. “Kinda figured you’d use this ta make me stop calling you Fiddlenerd,” he muttered. 

“Promise me.” 

After a long silence, Stan finally nodded. 

“Fine. I...I promise.” 

Ford arrived with their sandwiches. Such an early start to the day after their drunken exploits the night before were certainly not doing him any favors. His eyes were shadowed behind his glasses, and his bedhead stuck up in every direction. “We are _never_ doing that again,” he said grumpily, slamming the bag down. “Never. Again.” 

“Hey, no cure for a hangover like pig meat,” Stan said as he rifled through the bag, pulling out an egg-and-sausage biscuit with extra bacon. He took a large bite, his words muffled by the food. “Ah’m pawshified.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, Stanley.” 

Stan responded by letting his mouth hang open, displaying the half-chewed food. Ford’s face screwed up in disgust and he shoved him away. 

Fiddleford smiled to himself. 

He was going to miss this. 

* * *

“Goodbyes between true friends seldom last.” 

Behind the glass separating inmates from their visitors, Ben smiled. “That was beautiful.” 

Willie sniffled and wiped his eyes. “Read it on a fortune cookie.” 

“Listen, buddy,” Ben said, leaning forward, “this job is the best thing for both of us. By the time ya get back stateside, I should be out on good behavior. An’ then we’ll have enough cash to do anythin’ we want.” 

“Yeah, but…” Willie sighed, fresh tears welling. “I—I still hate ta leave you here. F-first I couldn’t pay the bail, now this…” His lower lip trembled. “W-we were s’posed ta go to Buenos Aires _together!_ ” 

He set the phone down to bury his face in his hands. A few other inmates and visitors gave the pair curious looks, but quickly looked away when Ben glared them down. After a few moments of Willie’s quiet snuffling, Ben said, “Don’t worry…”

He trailed off when he realized that Willie couldn’t hear him. 

“Willie.” Ben tapped on the glass. Willie’s head shot up, and Ben mimed picking up the phone. 

Willie quickly complied. “O-oh, right. Sorry ‘bout that.” 

“It’s okay. I was just gonna say, don’t worry. You told me ya had a Bad Feeling at the tournament, an’ I didn’t listen. Me gettin’ arrested was my own stupid fault. Besides, ya couldn’t’ve guessed they’d find out about all the other stuff. None a’ that’s on you.

“I promise, I’ll be fine. I’ll survive without ya bringin’ me cookies every week. But me gettin’ out won’t matter if we don’t got money. Now, you take that job in Argentina. Just crack open a cold one for me while you’re there, alright?” 

Willie nodded solemnly. He opened his mouth to say something, then hesitated. 

“I...I don’t think I wanna say ‘goodbye.’ Is ‘see ya later’ okay?” 

Ben gave him a thumbs up.

“Well, then...see ya later.”

“See ya later, buddy.” 

* * *

“Flight 618, now boarding.” 

Fiddleford gathered up his suitcase, backpack, duffel bag, and banjo case. “Looks like I’m off,” he said. “Any last words?” 

There was no response. He turned around to see Stanford standing with uncharacteristically slumped shoulders and looking utterly unsure of what to do. Stanley was attempting to discreetly wipe “dust” from his eyes and picking at a loose thread on his scarf. 

_All my memories, gather ‘round her…_

Fiddleford sighed. “C’mere, you two.” 

He set down his luggage and wrapped them in a hug.

To his surprise, they actually reciprocated, hugging him back tightly. He laughed and patted their backs. 

“We’ll keep in touch, arright?” 

_To the place I belong…_

He pulled back and fixed them each with a stern look. 

“Remember what we talked about.” 

Ford and Stan both nodded.

“Take care o’ each other.” 

They shared a glance and nodded again, albeit much more hesitantly. 

“An’ if there’s only one thing ya take away from our time together, _never forget…”_

_Teardrop in my eye…_

“...that I **[CENSORED]** Cthulhu.” 

Security rushed over to see who was causing a commotion at gate H-42, and found three men; one shrugging helplessly, one with his face in his hands, and one literally rolling on the floor laughing. 

Fiddleford barely managed to catch his flight. 

* * *

The drive back to the apartment was mostly quiet. 

“I’m gonna miss that nerd,” Stan finally said. 

Ford nodded. “Me, too.” 

They lapsed into another silence. 

“Stanley, we—we should talk.” 

Stan’s hands clenched tighter on the steering wheel. “Yeah?” 

“That is, Fiddleford made me promise to—”

“Same here,” Stan interrupted, still staring straight ahead at the road.

“Oh.”

The only sound was the tires thrumming on the highway. 

Ford cleared his throat. “S-should we—”

“We could not and say we did.” 

“Yes...right.” Ford fiddled with his hands. “We could.” 

Stan turned to him. “What, you _wanna_ talk?” 

“Not particularly,” Ford admitted. “But I think...he may have a point. About us having communication issues.” 

“Mhhm hmm.” 

“You’re not helping.” 

“I never am.” 

Ford suddenly slammed his hand on the dashboard, causing Stan to swerve in his lane. Luckily, there were no other cars around. “Dammit, Stanley, I’m _trying_ here!” 

“What, and I’m not?” 

“Not right now, you’re not! You’re waiting for _me_ to do all of the heavy-lifting, just like—” Ford’s eyes widened and his mouth snapped shut, but it was too late. The damage was already done. 

“Just like what, Ford? Go on. You can tell me.” Stan’s voice was dangerously quiet. 

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“No, really. I wanna know what you were gonna say.”

“Well, that’s too bad, then.”

They were silent the rest of the way home. 

* * *

The Stanleymobile pulled up outside of the apartment, and Stan killed the engine. Ford opened the door to step out.

Stan reached out and grabbed his shoulder. 

“Ford, wait.” 

Ford moved to shrug him off. 

“Please.” 

_“Just...wait. Please.”_

Ford’s breath caught in his throat and he closed his eyes. 

“Stan, let’s talk in the morning,” he said quietly. “Alright?” 

_“Stan...I don’t think I can do this right now. Could you call back another time?”_

Ford got out of the car and shut the door. 

Stan reached into his pocket and pulled out the crumpled Stancoupon. He stared down at it, heart pounding in his chest. 

_“See, the thing about that is...I don’t think there’s gonna_ be _another time, poindexter.”_

Stan scrambled out of the car. 

“FORD!” 

Ford stopped at the apartment door, hand on the knob. 

“I’m _scared,_ alright?” 

Ford slowly turned around. 

“Fidds made me promise to talk about my feelings or whatever. And—and that’s what I’m feeling. I’m feeling scared.” 

_Huddled under a blanket fort, Ford closed the book._

_“You okay?”_

_“Stan scoffed. “Y-yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”_

_“Because if it’s too scary, we can stop reading.”_

_“Pfft, I’m never scared!” Stan said, puffing out his chest. But in the dim light of the flashlight, Ford could see the uncertainty in his eyes._

_“Okay,” Ford said. “I think we should be done for the night anyway, though.” He started to scoot out of the fort._

_“Wait!” Stan grabbed his arm. “Could we...maybe...sleep in here? Like a campout?”_

_Ford smiled. “Sure.”_

_And under a shield of blankets and pillows, no ghosts or monsters could reach them._

“I’m feeling scared because you’re goin’ to Oregon without me, and even if you _did_ want me ta come along, I feel like I’d hafta say no because all I’ve ever done is tag along and hold you back.” 

There couldn’t have been more than six yards between the Stanleymobile and the front door. 

The distance felt much wider. 

“And when I get scared, I...I mess up.”

_A thin column of smoke rose from the machine, the mechanical arms slowing to a stop._

“You were just tryin’ ta help, but I had to go and be a jerk. It’s just...talkin’ hurts, ya know?” 

And didn’t that just sum them up perfectly?

“So, uh, I’m sorry. For everything. And even though I’m a huge asshole, I don’t wanna lose contact again. Just—just write me once in awhile, yeah? Or call. I dunno, whatever’s easiest.” 

_I don’t want to lose you again._

“Sixer, I’m sor—” 

“I’m scared, too.” 

Stan froze with his mouth hanging wide open at Ford’s interruption. Ford hesitantly stepped down from the porch. 

“I’ve been wanting to ask you to come to Oregon with me. But I was terrified that you’d say no. You had just gotten a job, and it seemed that you were...settling down.”

With each word, he took a step closer.

“I didn’t want to be the cause of you uprooting your life once again, and I didn’t want you to feel obligated to follow me.”

He was now only a few feet away from Stan. 

“But if it’s really something you want...if you’d be doing it for yourself, and not for my sake...I’d love to have you.” 

_“Wherever we go, we go together!”_

Ford stood directly in front of Stan, and his voice wavered slightly when he spoke.

He raised his hand in a familiar gesture.

“What do you say? High six?” 

Stan’s eyes watered, but he didn’t cry.

Instead, he pressed his palm to his brother’s and smiled. 

“High six.” 


End file.
